


Mr. Fairy Floss

by xtrachocolatechips



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Amusement Parks, Bad Flirting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, everyone's probably ooc btw, it's fluff that's literally all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-24 19:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3781006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtrachocolatechips/pseuds/xtrachocolatechips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While stuck together at the top of a Ferris wheel, Ross and Dan become acquainted with each other for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Fairy Floss

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this prompt from tumblr: ‘I was third wheeling with my best friend and his/her bf/gf at the amusement park when I got stuck sitting on a two seated roller coaster with some stranger and something happened so now we are stuck almost at the top and I hate heights but at least they are really hot’ au
> 
> The story behind this one is that I've been slipping back into a bit of depression lately, and since the other fic I'm writing is pretty angsty and sad, I thought I'd write this to cheer me up a little. 
> 
> A few things:  
> 1) Sorry if the fairy floss thing is inaccurate! I'm not Australian, nor do I have any Australian friends, and I literally just found that out with a quick google search.  
> 2) I recommend opening [this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM-XhQeFzW4)in another tab and listening to it when it becomes relevant in the story!

“Hey, Ross! _Roooosssssss._ ”

Suzy’s bouncy, gentle voice easily pries him awake. The next time Ross blinks his eyes open, she and Arin are both standing in front of him, Arin with his eyebrows knit in concern, and Suzy bearing an expression devoid of nothing but worry. It takes a moment for him to sleepily comprehend their surroundings and remember where he is, but the abundant noise of screaming, gleeful children around them and the sight of the giant, overbearing rollercoaster poised in the distance behind his friends is just enough to jog his memory.

Ross mumbles something unintelligible while sitting up straight on the bench, and Suzy sees this as the perfect opportunity to kneel a little and hold out a cup of a neatly-swirled pink Slurpee in offering. “Here, drink this. It’ll wake you up more.”

“Dude, sugar is the last thing he needs,” Arin interjects like an anxious mother, watching Ross take his silent sips, “Have you seen him when he’s hyper?”

“I prefer a hyper Ross to a sleepy Ross,” she replies, very matter-of-fact. Absently mouthing at the straw now, Ross discreetly takes note of the dynamic between Arin and Suzy as they both aside from him to bicker about whether sugar is a good pick-me-up or not. A soft voice in his head wonders how long he’d been asleep on the bench, and how long it’d been before the couple had taken a break during their rollercoaster binge to even notice they’d left him there.

“Hey, man,” Oh shoot, Arin was talking to him again, “you sure you don’t want us to drive you home? You didn’t have to come with us today if you didn’t want to.” Arin pauses to think about it. “…And I know you’ve been studying a lot lately, and like, you totally deserve rest—“

“Nah, nah, man, it’s fine,” Ross is quick to interrupt while he fiddles with the Slurpee straw, “I don’t wanna ruin your day, you know?” Arin does not look at all convinced, but Suzy’s expression is softening a little and that prompts him to continue, “I needed an excuse to get out of the house anyway. You guys go continue to do your rollercoaster thing, and, uh…” Ross stands then, dusting his jeans off with his free hand, “I’ll probably go on the Ferris wheel or some shit.”

Arin looks just about ready to whip out his car keys and drag him home right then and there. Before he can even get a word in edgewise, though, Suzy is grabbing onto his arm and flashing her signature, cheery smile. “See, babe? Told you he’d be okay!” She grins widely, bouncing on the tips of her toes, and doesn’t stop as she fishes out a folded map of the park from the back pocket of her shorts. “I was just thinking we should go on the Wave Crasher next. It’s the one that splashes water on you when you get to the bottom.” She’s already in the process of eagerly dragging a smitten Arin in the direction opposite Ross, and he has just enough sense to turn back and call out to him before she can completely lead him off to wherever:

“We’ll meet you back here in an hour, ‘kay?” He grins and waves a little, and then just like that, they’re gone again. Ross watches their receding figures for a moment longer before turning on his heels, now in pursuit of the gargantuan Ferris wheel located at the other end of the park.

 

xXx

 

The line for the Ferris wheel isn’t too long on account of an evening laser light show being held at the park’s distant amphitheater that’s drawn crowds of kids, parents and teens alike away from the rides. It hasn’t started yet by the time the guide is sliding Ross into one of the wheel’s little carts, but he secretly hopes he’ll be able to see the show when he reaches the top. He also hopes he won’t fall asleep on the way up there, either.

Contrary to his hopes, however, he’s already begun to nod off a little while someone else slides into the cart beside him. When it shakes slightly with the added weight, Ross is jolted awake again, and finds another boy sitting there, surveying him with an amused smile that makes his cheeks flush.

“Long day at the park, huh?” He offers, and Ross is just absolutely _entranced_ by his hair, which is huge, dark and curly, and looks pillow-y enough to sleep on.

In fact, he’s not even thinking anymore when he suddenly, meekly blurts out: “Your hair looks like fairy floss,” and you automatically know when what he’s said sinks into him because he gets so red in the face that his ears are aflame, and then the other breaks out into this weird kind of bubbly laughter that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges and _shit I fucked up I fucked up_ —

But to his surprise, the boy remains 100% good-natured about it (as in _not_ immediately jumping at the opportunity to make fun of him as he’d been anticipating), and Ross is not sure if that makes the situation any more better because now he has to face the fact that he made himself sound like a dunce in front of a very nice stranger.  “The hell is fairy floss, man?" He laughs out, "That sounds like the name of a really sick band!" Ross instantly relaxes a bit at the friendly counter, and finds comfort in staring at the safety rail of the little cart, mindlessly reaching out to run his fingers across it.

“It’s, um… it’s that sweet stuff, I guess? It’s really pink and fluffy, and it’s made of sugar. It comes on sticks. You see people at this park walking around with it a lot. That stuff.” And then, when the realization hits him, he snaps his fingers and looks up, “Oh! I think you guys call it cotton candy over here, or something like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, cotton candy. Fuckin’ love that shit.” Ross hasn’t even realized that the wheel has begun to make its slow climb upwards during their banter. He swings his dangling feet a little as the other asks, “are you from England or something?”

“Australia,” he answers, smiling small to himself, because this is usually the part when people ask him to say stuff in his barely-there accent.

But of course, the boy deviates away from the typical script anyway, instead opting to boast with extra enthusiasm, “Dude, that’s so cool!” Ross hides his smile at his energetic demeanor by looking away. “Are you visiting, or like….?”

“I moved to the US with my family last year.” Ross shrugs. “It’s okay, I guess.”

Mr. Fairy Floss’s loud guffaw in response makes Ross actually laugh as well, and it briefly surprises him because he can’t even remember the last time he’s laughed like so; he feels a familiar giddiness begin to creep upon him that he hasn’t felt in ages. “I—I mean, it’s pretty cool?” He giggles along with the other’s bubble laughs, “Like, everyone here seems really patriotic sometimes, so I don’t know if I sound like an asshole when I say that or not.”

“Nah, dude, you’re fine,” The boy manages between breathless giggles, “just kinda caught me off guard.”

Ross grins wide and nods a bit in reply, and as their laughter dies down, they both settle for sitting in silence together whilst the cart nears the very top of the wheel. The whole park is visible from their height—rides, screaming kids, distant laser show all galore. Beneath them, onlookers have turned into tiny ants. Ross has to peer over the edge of the cart to take it all in in amazement, and the other boy stretches out comfortably, rests his chin in his hand, and quietly does the same.

A full minute of the two doing this goes by without them noticing that the ride isn’t moving a single inch.

And it seems to dawn on them at the same time, because they’re just turning to share a quizzical look with each other when a muddled, female voice announces on the intercom: “ _Excuse us, passengers, but the ride is currently undergoing technical difficulties…”_

 _What a wonderful way to start the weekend,_ Ross thinks next, while covering his mouth to gulp down a big yawn.

“You’re not gonna fall asleep again, are you?” The boy eyes him with a teasing grin, and leans forward on his elbows to rest on the safety bar of the cart, causing it to rock a bit.

 “…No promises, man.”

“Aw, but then you’d miss the laser light show. It’s supposed to start…” He digs out his phone from his pocket to check the time, “…right about now, actually.”

Right on cue, a few prompt seconds later, intercom lady returns to inform the park that they apologize for the evening events that would be delayed due to a sparse power outage that has, unfortunately, affected some of the attractions. She isn’t even done speaking yet when Ross lets out a loud groan, while Fairy Floss shakes his head a little and runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Sorry, spoke too soon,” he says, now clearly downtrodden. Ross can only shake his head in response, and silently prays that whatever technician is working on the solution would fix the rides soon, and _fast._

               

xXx

               

After a whopping fifteen minutes pass, Ross finally comes to terms with the fact that no, the problem was _not_ going to be fixed soon, and that he might as well get comfortable because he and Fairy Boy would probably be stuck together for a while.

In the meantime, the boys have settled comfortably at their respective ends of the cart, both fiddling awkwardly with their phones, both avoiding each other’s occasional, shy glance. It isn’t until Ross manages to achieve a new high score in Candy Crush that he figures that they might as well be on a first name basis if they’re gonna be attached at the hip for the night, and he quietly says without looking up from his screen, “I’m Ross, by the way.”

“Sorry, what?” Fairy Floss pops out his earphones, his eyebrows cocked up inquisitively, and Ross feels a little stupid for not noticing he’d been listening to something, but repeats himself anyway.

“Ross,” he says again, projecting more this time yet still doing all he can to avoid his gaze—he doesn’t know why, but looking at him always flusters him a little. “My name’s Ross, by the way.”

“Dan,” he returns, prodding at the screen of his phone with one finger. And then, in the most hilariously unfitting, casual manner, he adds, “…but my friends call me Danny Sexbang, so.”

That just about does it. Ross bursts into a splendid fit of laughter for the second time that night, this time with waterworks included; if he wasn’t embedded in hysterics, he swears his giggles could be heard throughout the entire park. He wipes frantically at his teary eyes as he tries to contain himself, and Dan merely watches him with a sort of lopsided grin. “I’m not joking—“

“Dude,” Ross is practically trembling with the remnants of his own laughter, shakes his head again, “D-Dude, your friends do _not_ fucking call you that. That’s probably what you _want_ your friends to call you. ”

“They do! They totally do! Ask the entire football team, man!” The fact that Dan is so quick to defend himself almost propels Ross into fucking hysterics again, and, realizing this, Dan turns slightly and flexes his arm to show off the sleeve of his varsity jacket, which causes Ross to instantly dissolve from quiet giggles into curious amazement.

“You’re on the _football team_?” He stretches out the words like it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s heard all day, and Dan honest-to-god pouts at his reaction.

“Is it really that hard to tell?” He resumes flexing whatever muscle he’s deluded himself into believing that he has; Ross hides his giggles behind his hand as he nods.

Dan is definitely above average height, he’d give him that—probably even clocking in a good two or three heads taller than him. In terms of body type, though, Dan’s practically a string bean, and all Ross can imagine him doing on a football field is uselessly wobbling his skinny-ass body around until some beefcake tackles him and manages to break at least six of his bones in the process. “Aren’t football players supposed to be big and muscle-y?”

“I’m big.”

“And muscle-y?”

Dan shoots him a pointed look. “You’re one to talk. What are you, a freshman?” He’s jesting at Ross’ rather contrasting _below_ average height, but the other’s very much used to comments like that, so he easily shrugs it off.

“Junior,” he returns, “but it isn’t the first time someone’s mistaken me for a freshman.” Now that Dan’s stopped flexing his silly little arms, he takes note of the graduating year printed on the sleeves of his jacket. _This_ , he quietly thinks then, _is probably the longest interaction I’ve ever had with a senior who doesn’t want to beat me up._ Ross points at his own arm to indicate that he’s been looking at Dan’s. “So, do you know what college you’re going to in the fall?”

“Oh,” Dan glances down at his sleeve and then raises a hand to rub the back of his neck a little, suddenly rather bashful. “…uh, yeah, I guess? I mean, I’ve gotten a few acceptance letters that I haven’t opened yet. My school’s ragging on everyone to get at least one before the semester ends.”

“What school do you go to?”

Dan names one of the larger suburban public schools in the area with a flippant hand gesture. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he then asks, “What school do _you_ go to? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before.”

Now it’s Ross’s turn to be bashful; he can’t help but look down as he utters out the name of one of the most well-known, prestigious private schools in the city. Dan’s eyes widen to the size of saucers.  “Whoa, seriously? Never would’ve guessed you to be the private school type!”

 _Me neither,_ Ross silently agrees with him. “It’s not really that big of a deal.”

“No, it totally is!” Dan’s insistence only makes Ross more embarrassed. “I have a friend that goes there—Brian Wecht, do you know him?” Ross shakes his head. “Kid’s a fuckin’ genius—smartest guy I know. I should introduce you guys.” Dan gets a bit of a faraway look in his eyes next as he absently peers over the cart again to survey the park below. “You must be super smart too, huh.”

“Not really?” Ross, too, focuses his attention on the tiny-ant people mingling about back on the ground. “Sometimes I think about it, and like… the only real difference between your school and mine is that mine just gives students more work and expects us to handle it like we’ve been doing trig since we were three. That’s honestly it.” He forgets to bite back his sarcasm as he continues, “… _and_ we have to pay to learn, which is a nice bonus.”

“ _And_ you guys also get cool uniforms,” Dan helpfully adds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Plus, all of you guys always get crazy scholarships, and end up going on to become neurosurgeons or some shit.” Ross snorts, and Dan looks over at him. “Again, you don’t seem like a neurosurgeon kind of guy.”

“That’s not what my parents think.”

“ _Fuck_ what your parents think, man!”  It’s so loud and sudden that it startles the living daylights out of both of them, but now that he’s captured Ross’ full, concerned attention, Dan feels the need to rant on, anyway. “Don’t pursue a lame-ass career just because your parents told you to , or something. Jesus.”

To his surprise, Ross laughs again, this time giving a dismissive wave. “It’s not that simple, dude.”

“How is it not that simple?”

“Well—“ Ross is hesitating, then, because it’s just occurring to him that he’s getting ready to pour out all of his life troubles to a complete stranger that he’s only met about thirty or so minutes ago. Definitely not how he imagined to ever be spending his Saturday night. He retracts back a little as he tries again, “—well, it’s just complicated.” And he leaves it at that, and Dan quietly decides to respect his boundaries by not prodding any further; Ross does not come off to him as the type who’d take kindly to prodding of any nature.

That is how they end up resuming a silence that’s very similar to the one they’d built up previously—it doesn’t last as long as before, though, because at some point, Dan suggests that they play a game of twenty questions that the other agrees to out of pure curiosity. To be honest, Ross at this point in time would leap at any opportunity to learn more about the oh-so-intriguing and mysterious Danny Sexbang. Accordingly, he assumes the role of the interrogator first.

Ross uncovers that Danny is an eighteen year-old star quarterback (whatever the fuck that meant) of his football team, who takes his coffee black like a “real man”, likes the color blue too much, has no pets save for a pet rock named bubbles that he made in second grade, spends his free-time either hanging out with football buds (that’d he’d conveniently ditched for the evening to ride on the Ferris wheel) or writing songs on his guitar, and, get this—is aspiring to be a _rock star_. Upon learning that last fact, Ross bubbles with laughter for the zillionth time that night, to which Dan responds by calmly remarking, “I don’t get why you always think I’m joking.”

“It’s probably ‘cause you never say the things I’m expecting,” Ross suggests between ceasing little giggles that make Dan’s heart flutter a little. “A rock star? Seriously?”

“Hell yeah.” Dan is so ready, so firm with his response that Ross watches him almost admiringly as the other looks up to the sky with stars in his eyes, and proceeds to wave one hand across the air in front of him like he’s writing something into it. “Just imagine the flashing letters above the stage: Danny Sexbang, in bright blue and yellow. And then….” He raises both hands upwards in a large, swooping motion, and closes his eyes as if to revel in his fantasy, “…the curtain lifts and I come out, guitar in hand…. grab the mic off its stand, throw out a sick riff, and then sing so fucking awesomely that the entire crowd loses their goddamn minds.” He cups his hands around his mouth then, yelling as if to imitate said audience, “ _Sexbang! Sexbang! Sexbang!_ ”

The one thing Ross doesn’t want to ever admit to him is that he can actually see that happening, can imagine the whole scene clearly in his mind, because Dan is just too damn fitting for that kind of role. He has the smile, the charm, and exudes charisma like it’s second nature to him despite also being a total dork. And now, he’s even got reluctant little Ross wrapped around his finger. “Good luck with that one,” is all he can think to say in terms of witty rhetoric, complete with a sort of lopsided, dazed smile that Dan returns with his own.

“Thanks,” he says, before breezing through Ross’ final question about Dan’s apparent, incessant and irrational fear of sharks. Once that’s over, he immediately switches gears by pestering Ross with some of his own.

They start out fairly normal—favorite color, animal, song, stuff like that—but quickly divulge further down the line, starting when he asks, “Why were you sleeping when I got here?”

Ross becomes slightly embarrassed at the memory. “I was tired. _Am_ tired, actually.”

“Why are you tired?”

“I was up studying pretty late last night.” He’d had to take a mock physics exam just that very morning. “If I could, I’d probably fall asleep right now.”

“What’s the color of the underwear you’re wearing?”

The curveball hits him right on the nose; Ross stammers for a second. “Um, blue, I think? Maybe?  I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“My favorite color, bro. Nice.” Dan tries to keep it together as he flashes a smile at him, but that only helps to make Ross dissolve into his wonderful laughter again, and then pretty soon they’re both laughing like a couple of middle schoolers over a juvenile joke until they both tire themselves out.  Once they do, Dan continues on his roll.

“Do you have a big family?”

“Two parents, a big sister, and a dog.”

“Did you come here with them?”

“Nah.”

“So, you came here with friends?”

“Yeah, but they’ve probably gone home without me by this point.”

Dan makes a sad face at this revelation. “I can drive you home, if you want?” He sounds so sincere that it makes Ross’ heart melt a little with gratitude, and Ross bites back a tiny smile that threatens to tug at the corner of his lips.

“That’d be pretty nice, thanks.” He pauses. “Also, I’m counting that as a question.”

“Oh, shit. How many do I have left?”

Ross counts on his fingers, and then holds up a peace sign. “Just two.”

“Great. So did your girlfriend or boyfriend come with you guys to the park today?”

“Not dating anyone at the moment.”

“So, you’re single?”

 _…Is he seriously flirting with me?_ When Ross looks up at him, Dan is grinning, the smug bastard, like he’s just hit some sort of jackpot. In all honesty, that isn’t too far from the truth; if it was a reaction he’d wanted, Ross’ flustered, incoherent mumbling and nodding in response certainly suffice.

Dan opens his mouth to say something else, but right as he does, the distant sound of an audience booming with applause draws their attention away from each other and to the amphitheater, where people are currently giving a standing ovation to a couple of technician-looking guys that have walked onstage. They spend a full minute bowing, conversing, and laughing along with the crowd, and eventually hop off stage to tinker with a few of the large-looking machines that are propped on the ground surrounding it.

“ _Ladies and gentleman,_ ” a female announcer has steps onto the stage, next, and boasts into her mic, “ _let’s give another round of applause for our brave mechanics, all whom worked so diligently to get the power back on across the park tonight.”_

“Holy shit, they actually forgot about us.” Dan doesn’t sound scared so much as he sounds awed by the whole situation, as if he couldn’t believe that they forgot _them_ , the universally important and relevant Dan and Ross. “Dude, we might be stuck here for the night.”

“Nah, they’ll come for us eventually.” On the other hand, Ross isn’t even bothered in the slightest by their current predicament, and watches with fascination as the tech guys begin to prep the laser projectors. “Before they lock up for the night, they’re obligated to check all of the rides.” When Dan does not respond to him, Ross peers up to see the look of skepticism he’s giving him, and quickly explains, “My sister worked here for a while after we moved here.”

Dan just nods, and then they both resume focusing their attention on the stage, where announcer lady is flawlessly silencing the audience and turning everyone’s attention to the sky. Shortly after, a beam of red light is shooting all the way up from the machines to the clouds, and a slow-ish pop song starts to blast through the loudspeakers as new and old beams of light shoot upwards or change color mid extension. It’s truly a magnificent sight to behold; Ross finds it impossible to tear his eyes away from the display.

They do not speak for a large portion of the show, almost to the point where Ross nearly forgets that Dan is sitting beside him at all. When he realizes this, however, he turns to look up at the taller male, and immediately grows embarrassed again because Dan is already looking right at _him_. His face is partially obscured in the dark of the night, save for the projection of the laser lights painting constantly changing colors on his unreadable expression. A quiet minute passes with the pair doing nothing else but just gazing at one another; Ross’ breathing quickens a little, and he nervously bunches his fingers into his pant legs.

Then, like a true and refined gentleman, Dan abruptly breaks their silence by shifting to shrug off his varsity jacket. “Here, man. Are you cold? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Ross looks down, and, _oh, I guess I am,_ and tries to thwart Dan’s kindness by being modest, but that only succeeds in getting him nowhere. The night air is practically freezing, and for some god awful reason, Dan has the audacity to carefully take off his jacket and slide it onto Ross’s shoulders like it’s a common gesture. He’s so flustered, so _flattered_ by it that he loses the ability to focus on the enthralling light display—Dan’s presence beside him has magnified itself by a tenfold. Ross steals minuscule glances at him in his peripheral vision, watches his slight smile, watches the way he rises a little every time the lights change hues. And maybe, just maybe, Ross begins to think that Dan is actually _cute_ , but it’s certainly not something he plans to admit anytime soon.

As the show appears to approach its end, the colors of the lights slowly fade out against the backdrop of the night, and when the lasers are completely gone, Ross and Dan, despite being nowhere near the amphitheater, applaud just as passionately as the crowd does. By this point, Ross’s previous bout of exhaustion has not gone away, and, if anything, gotten worse; he fights to keep his eyes open, and has almost totally keeled over to his drowsiness when the amphitheater’s loudspeakers abruptly start to thunder with boisterous music again. A soulful, 80s guitar riff– a drastic change from the slow pop present throughout most of the show—rips through the air that makes Dan and Ross both jump in their seats.

Announcer lady’s craggy voice makes a jubilant return as well. “ _For the final part of the show,”_ she says, _“something special for all the couples in the crowd tonight!_ ” The lasers start again, shooting off into the sky as bright, red hearts of various shapes and sizes.

Ross’s entire face grows warm; if he was more awake, he would probably be freaking out, and it’s like Dan senses his slight discomfort because in .5 seconds he is grabbing hold of an invisible mic and singing along to the song—one Ross had never heard in his life before—like it’s his fucking birthright, in hopes that it would dissipate some of the tension between them.

“ _You know our love was meant to be…”_ Damn, the boy can really sing—Dan points straight at Ross while continuing to serenade into his mic, “ _…the kind of love that lasts forever. And I want you here with me…_ _from tonight until the end of time…_ ”

Ross is beet red, but he’s laughing harder than he’s ever had in months at the other’s over-the-top theatrics, which consist of Dan headbanging rock star style and gyrating his hips to an emotional ballad that calls for absolutely none of that. “ _You should know, everywhere I go_ —“

Over the loud volume, Ross has to giggle-yell to interrupt him, “How the fuck do you know this song?!”

And in response, Dan pauses mid-performance to shake his head at him in mock-disbelief (and maybe it’s just the red lights reflecting off of him, but Ross swears he’s a little red in the face as well). “How do you _not?_!”

“Because I wasn’t born in the fucking 70s, Dan!”

“That’s so cool! Neither was I!” Right as the chorus kicks in, he melds into full-on rock star mode again with a dramatic swish of the head and a swift jerk of the mic back down to his lips. “ _You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration._ ” This time, Dan is looking at Ross as intensely as he can, and while the other doesn’t shy away from his gaze, he blushes like a fool and tries to desperately quell his laughter. “ _You bring feeling to my life, you're the inspiration._ ” Dan resumes his very unfitting pelvic thrusts, much to Ross’ chagrin, “ _Wanna have you near me, I wanna have you hear me sayin'… No one needs you more than I,”_ Dan points at himself, “… _need,”_ nods affirmatively, “... _you—“_

A tremendous whirring sound that surges from underneath the pair is slow to propel the cart forwards in its intended, gentle descent around the wheel. As soon as they’re moving again, Ross, in all his exhausted giddiness, breathes out a quiet “Thank fucking God,” while Dan just exasperatedly throws his hands into the air and exclaims a tireless, “I wasn’t even done with song yet!”

 

xXx

 

Ross is sure that the rest of the night proceeds like a really happy fever dream. Three aids approach each person that reaches the ground to make sure they’re okay, offer apologies, and supply them with discount tickets for a future trip to the park. Once Dan and Ross have made it passed them, they haven’t even taken two steps out before Ross is assaulted from the side with a violent hug from Suzy that makes his lungs deflate, and Arin follows suit until Ross is smothered between the two in an aggressively loving sandwich.

Suzy, bless the poor girl, sounds like she’s been crying as she smothers him in “are you okay?”s and “we were so worried”s, in addition to incoherent apologies that makes Ross’ heart swell with appreciation.  The pair does eventually give Ross leverage by removing themselves from their hug, but Suzy refuses to let go of Ross’ waist from behind, which, at the moment, he is okay with.

They were only stuck up there for about an hour and a half, but Arin’s looking like he’s lost days of sleep from worry—his hair’s disheveled, eyes are tired with stress. As soon as he’s finished detailing how worried they were about him, his mood takes a complete 180 and he’s pissed the hell off like there’s no tomorrow, “You didn’t think to answer your fucking phone?! Seriously, dude?!”

“It lost charge after Candy Crush,” he stammers sheepishly, and of _course_ Arin can’t stay mad at Ross for more than a few seconds and moves in to hug him again, and all Ross can think when he feels his arms wind around him is that when he turns on his phone again, sorting through forty urgent voicemails will not be a very engaging activity to partake in.

The second time Arin lets go of him, he’s _crying_. It’s not sobbing or anything, but he’s bubbling with tears that he’s hastily wiping away with the heels of his hands, “Dude, I’m just… I-I’m really fucking sorry.” He exhales shakily, “We… we were just thinking while you were up there… a-and like… how earlier, we basically j-just fucking ditched you…” He shakes his head, and meets Ross’ sympathetic gaze with red eyes. “…that wasn’t cool, man.”

“We’re sorry, Ross,” Suzy adds from behind, shifting to nuzzle affectionately into the crook of his neck, and Ross suddenly wants to cry too, but feels obligated to keep it together for the  both of them.

As he quietly forgives and reassures them, his gaze drifts over to where Dan is conversing with about five other _giant_ boys that were about the same height as Dan but double his girth—so, the football stories are really true after all. Dan is laughing with them all, and he eagerly waves over Ross once he catches the other looking at him. Promptly, Ross shimmies out of Suzy’s iron grip. “Hey, I’m gonna go talk to someone over there for a sec.” He jerks his thumb in their general direction; Arin’s getting ready to ask why, but Suzy quickly makes the connection between the unfamiliar jacket Ross is wearing and the jackets that the burly boys are wearing, and pushes him forward a little.

When Ross stumbles over to where Dan is, the other football boys are parting with him and he’s calling after them, “I’ll meet with you guys in a minute!” Then he smiles at Ross, giving a nod to where Arin and Suzy are watching them. “So, those are your suck-y friends? They don’t seem as terrible as you said they were.”

Ross grins and shrugs. “They were acting suck-y before, but they’re okay now.” He starts to shoulder off Dan’s jacket, and he’s barely got it off one arm when the other affronts the palm of his hand at him in a “stop” gesture, to which Ross hesitantly inquires, “you don’t want it back?”

“It’s really cold tonight.” Dan ponders it for a moment longer. “Actually…” He takes out his wallet from his back pocket, next, and removes a small receipt that’s been stuffed haphazardly into it. “You got a pen?”

Poor, oblivious Ross, who can never be found without his sketchbook on hand, sifts through his drawstring bag to hand him a ballpoint. Dan scribbles something on the back of the paper, then neatly folds it up and hands it back to him along with the pen. “Give the jacket back to me later,” he says, “I need it for the next pep rally.”

“Dude, are you coming or what?” One of Dan’s football friends calls out to him from behind; the rest of his group has apparently left, save for the one guy. Dan flushes slightly, and he’s already backing away from Ross as he gives him one, final wave.

“Call me later,” he says, and then he’s turning around and just like that he’s gone, leaving a slightly stunned Ross in his midst.

Heartbeat quickening, Ross peels open the paper to read Dan’s chicken scratch handwriting, which entails his phone number, followed by:

_Text me sometime! We should hang out again!!_

The sentence is punctuated with a winking face. Ross begins to feel the heat rise to his cheeks again as Suzy and Arin hastily jog over to catch up to him. “Oh my God,” Suzy exclaims, breathless, “did he give you his number? Oh my God, Ross, he was so cute.”

 _I know_ , he wants to say, but doesn’t, because Arin is throwing one arm around him and nosily inquiring to know everything about the strange “skinny dude”, and whatever the hell it was that happened between the two at the top of the Ferris wheel. The pair thus huddles protectively around Ross, and as they begin their trek back to the parking lot, he eagerly details to them the events of the night while bearing the brightest smile he’s had in a long, long time.

 

xXx

 

Approximately a week and a half later, Ross stands, still in school uniform, in front of a massive bookcase inside of the Barnes and Noble that was located a few miles away from the Academy. As soon as school had let out for the day he’d driven there, just as he’d done the previous day, and the day before that.

Each time he comes, it’s always to look at one, specific book, and each time, he contemplates buying it, but ends up leaving the store fruitless anyway. He isn’t sure what’d make this time any more different than the last ones.

Wait, yes he does.

Ross slides out his cellphone from his pocket, quickly types in the password, and taps to view the messages he’s sent to recent contacts—Dan’s number being the first to appear. When he selects it, he has to scroll down a long string of texts from a previous conversation they’d been having just to the get to the bottom, where he can finally type out:

_[TEXT: AVIDANIEL] Um, weird question_

_[TEXT: AVIDANIEL] You know how you’re gonna be a rock star one day_

_[TEXT: AVIDANIEL] Or something_

_[TEXT: AVIDANIEL] Have you ever thought about what you would do if that plan doesn’t work out? Would you be sad?_

He patiently awaits his reply, and once it comes, he reads it over and over again until the anxiety in his chest is alleviated:

_[TEXT: O’DONOBAE] tbh, i think i would be happy knowing that i at least tried than if i don’t at all!! so i wouldn’t be sad. if it does not work out i will accept it and move on to the next goal._

This is all the confirmation Ross needs. With a heartfelt surge of confidence, he first places his backpack on the ground and zips it open to make room beside his physics textbook, and then stands to thumb through the selection of available books on the shelf, stopping at last to pull out the one that reads, _Intro to Animation: Adobe Flash Tutorial Basics_ across its spine.

**Author's Note:**

> does anyone else feel like dan would have an obession with 80s music no matter what the age or verse he's placed in
> 
> also, my writing blog is [here! ](http://www.xtrachocolatechips.tumblr.com)


End file.
